


The Aftermath

by cipherninethousand



Series: Wrath of Empires [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, obligatory post betrayal fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 15:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cipherninethousand/pseuds/cipherninethousand
Summary: Quinn’s been working himself to the bone trying to prove that his loyalty is only to Srin’na in the wake of his betrayal.  And in saving Darth Vowrawn, it may have worked.  Otherwise, who is this visitor in his tent?





	The Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I AM IN LOVE with the Force bond trope between Quinn and the Warrior. I've also been intending to write a post-betrayal fic forever, but I've been ignoring it. I found this half finished in my drafts today.

Hours after Darth Vowrawn is rescued, Quinn is still riding the high from his lord’s smile. He lays restless in his tent, far from the others and even his lord, and it doesn’t matter.  Srin  _smiled_  at him, the first time in weeks that it's not the grimace that comes after a kill, but the bright, gentle smile she’d always saved for him.  Just as the high softens, it spreads to set his skin alight, he hears a noise – far too soft to be patrol.  Quinn reaches for the blaster next to his cot, ready for this would be assassin, fingers steady on the grip.  He only needs a moment.

The tent flap lifts, and he takes aim – but quick as a flash, his attacker pins his wrists above his head. “Shh, Quinn.”

A hood hides her face, but it does not hide the red of her skin nor the drape of her lekku on her shoulders, and certainly it doesn’t change the soft purr of Srin’s voice.  Quinn goes still.  She claimed forgiveness today, but if she has decided to slit his throat so be it.  It’s her right.  Instead, Srin chuckles, drawing a thumb across his lower lip.

“ _My lord_.” He murmurs, reverent and terrified all at once.

All he asks is that she make it quick.

“Shh.” She repeats.

Rather than the dagger he expected, Srin climbs over Quinn’s cot to straddle him.  Her hand has yet to leave his face, thumb tracing the line of his jaw now.  Gently.  Slowly. Quinn inhales as Srin's lips touch his, and sighs into her mouth when her kiss is as gentle as her touch.  It lacks any anger he expected, and for an instant, it’s like Baras never came between them, that Quinn never let his fear influence his decision.  He curves his hands around the small of her back, itching to touch her, though he stops just short of contact.  It earns him a light nudge; a firmer press of lips to urge him on. 

He absolutely does not whimper. 

While he squirms, Srin rears back to toss her cloak on the ground, only to stop just as suddenly. “Quinn, I…” Her voice cracks.

“Srin’na?” He sits up now, and Srin slides back to sit in his lap.  He should hold her, comfort her – if he were sure that he still had that right.  Despite the boldness of her actions, their bond is still closed to him.

Srin makes the decision for him.  She tucks her head against his shoulder, a sharp cry muffled in his shirt. “I thought I could do this,” she murmurs, hands clenching uselessly, “And I can’t, not unless… _please_ , Malavai, I need you to tell me.”

 _I’ll tell you anything_ , he thinks.

Her head jerks up then, eyes bright. “Tell me that it meant something.  If this…if we were just a product of Baras’ machinations, tell me now.  I can’t handle another betrayal.”

“I never lied about this,” Quinn hugs her without thinking, drawing Srin close just to hold her. “Darling –”  _his_  voice breaks this time, “I couldn’t lie about loving you.  Not since I joined your crew – no matter what I lied about for Baras, loving you isn’t one of them.” 

Srin hums, meeting his gaze for a moment without blinking.  They stay still for even longer, brown staring into blue, until Quinn notices something.  For weeks now, he’s been without the warmth – of Srin’s bed, her arms, her smile – but most of all their bond has been closed off.  He’d had no frame of reference, and that had made its sudden absence all that much worse.  Until now. It’s gentle at first.  Different, but gentle, tiny tendrils of warmth snaking up his arms from where he holds Srin, wrapping his thoughts in it until he can sense her feelings.

The cacophony of emotions makes shame rush up in him.

“Don’t.” Srin tells him. “I love you.  That’s what matters.”

“I’ll prove worthy of it, I swear.”


End file.
